I wasn't aloud to  like myself.
Without permission.
                         "Do I feel pretty today?"
"No."
                          "Am I happy today?"
"No."
                           "You're hurting me."
"Some call it love."

Im insecure
Im scared and unsure
Of myself.
I don’t really play video games
Or read a lot of books.
Im not that smart
But I like to pretend I am in front of you.
And infront of you im one person,
With myself im another.
Ive made a lot of mistakes
That one day ready or not all have to face…
Im a fanatic about piano and I sing A LOT
Im sure it annoys a lot of people. But that’s okay.
Sometimes I don’t understand who I am or even know what to do next.
But I guess that’s when I put my faith in God and just rest.
Im just like you.
I hate being rejected,
I hate conflicts
And I have issues too…
I guess if you really think about it,
Im not that much different than you.

I remember the precise moment I stopped loving him.
We had gone out to dinner.
I was just getting back from the lady's room.
He looked up at me and smiled.
His eyes, I noticed, were dead and lifeless.
Not even a dull glimmer of light remained.
I blinked
thinking eyes would appear in the two gaping holes in his face.
They only grew deeper.
He looked at me quizzically.
Perhaps something in my expression had given me away.
I sat down beside him
avoiding looking at what had once been a pair of chlorine blue eyes.
It was as if something had changed in the time it took me to use the restroom.
When I left everything was normal.
But when I came back he was no longer the man I loved.
I denied it for a while,
dismissing it as a feeling that would pass just like indigestion.
But it never did.
It only worsened.
An unexplainable bitterness began to build up inside me.
Today I looked through some old photos of us
and realized that I'd imagined those chlorine blue eyes of his
because he'd never had eyes of his own to begin with.
Funny howI was the one with the eyes and I was blind the whole time.
Maybe I should pluck my eyes out.

She was the girl that hated being called cute
Because she felt cute
Was a word that should be reserved to describe puppies.

She was the girl that used her daddy issues
As an excuse to cling on
Too tightly to the ones she loved.

She was the  girl that could be read
Like a book.
Wearing her emotional spectrum
Right between her eyebrows
That were  overdue
For a waxing.

She was the girl that wore lipstick
Instead of gloss.
Any shade of red or pink would do.

She was the girl that tried too hard
To please everyone
And forgot herself.

She was quite the girl.
She was.

They called her crazy
Because she didn't know
Her own name.
The pale blue dot
She lived upon
She was afraid
To call home.
On that Wednesday
In December
When it began to rain
Her lifeless finger
Pulled the trigger.
She doesn't whistle anymore.

You said
               "Go away, I don't like you anymore."
"Your nose is too big."
                            "You laugh too loud."
            "You kiss with your eyes open."
He said.
So I left.
I closed my mouth.
I shut my eyes.
But my ****** nose
                    It's still too big.